


folie à deux

by courante



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Magnus Archives Fusion, Horror, M/M, Magical Realism, Minor Violence, POV First Person, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courante/pseuds/courante
Summary: Case #0000040. Statement of Brett Yang, regarding a violent incident in Sydney, Australia surrounding a performance of the balletGiselle. Original statement given 6th July 2019.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	folie à deux

**Author's Note:**

> **may contain spoilers for the magnus archives** \--> the original magnus institute staff aren't present, but there may be spoilers and characters alluding to incidents that have happened through the first three seasons. 
> 
> this fic will probably make very little sense if you haven't consumed tma before; think of it as a story about a guy who listens to multiple people tell him supernatural horror stories that are, somehow, real and interconnected.
> 
> (yes, i watched the jobs video; yes, i still wrote archivist!eddy, because. Because.)
> 
> **content warnings:** some horror, violence, blood

[CLICK]

YANG

Didn't think I'd end up here, did you?

ARCHIVIST

...I'd rather not dwell on that right now. _[Deep breath, static crackle]_ Please, go ahead.

YANG

Aren't you supposed to say something about the date, what this statement is about — Eddy? Eddy. Please... look at me. This isn’t your fault. I _want_ to do this. I’ve been wanting to tell the story for a while now, actually.

ARCHIVIST

_[Skeptical tone]_ ...Are you really sure?

YANG

Yes. [ _Moment of silence_ ] It’ll help you, won’t it? It’ll help both of us. Even if you already know what happened. Even if… well. Maybe. Maybe…

ARCHIVIST

_[Pause, a slightly shaky sigh]_ Alright. Statement of Brett Yang, regarding the… a violent incident in Sydney, Australia, surrounding a performance of the ballet _Giselle_. Audio recording by Edward Chen… Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Oral statement taken straight from subject on 6 July, 2019. Go ahead, Mr. Yang… Brett.

_[Quietly, almost inaudible]_ I hate… I hate this job. So much. I’m sorry.

YANG

Okay. Well.

It happened three years ago, around this time of the year. Super cold day. I don’t think anyone expected anything out of the ordinary to happen that day. It was just a routine performance, and we were in the pit, as usual. You know; you were there, in the audience. You used to do this too. We… nevermind.

Our conductor caught the flu. They got a replacement we’d never heard of before during the rehearsal. I don’t know where the hell she came from— Orsinov. That was her name. She was really fucking weird, man, like… the _smile_. It was frozen on her face, like she was a mannequin. But she clearly knew her shit, so we weren’t— I wasn’t— that pressed about it. It wasn’t like we were gonna be completely fucked for the performance, yeah? But I had… I had a feeling something was gonna go wrong. _[Sigh]_ Just, stupid Brett… should’ve listened to my gut. It’s always like this! Should’ve fucking known but, can’t change the past, right?

I remember you came in around six-thirty— we were still waiting on Orsinov, because some of the staff were whispering they couldn’t find her either. I remember being kind of, I dunno, annoyed? Like, even the replacement had gone missing now, half an hour before we’re due to start… I just wanted to finish this early and get some bubble tea. Remember that place near the fountain that always opened late? I wonder if it’s still there…

You smiled at me, even though I could barely see anything from where I was sitting. Dork. I knew you were really tired because you’d just flown in and you didn’t even particularly care for this ballet… I should’ve just told you to stay home, but of course I didn’t. I missed you. I wanted… I wanted to look at you for a little longer, I guess.

[UNIDENTIFIED, SOFT SHIFTING NOISES IN BACKGROUND]

Anyway, she arrived, just in time. The show started. Everything was normal at first, the dancers were doing their thing up there, I was falling asleep. You probably know more about it than I do, about the story. Giselle fell in love with someone she couldn’t have, someone she shouldn’t have— 

[HUM OF AGREEMENT FROM THE ARCHIVIST]

At the end of Act I, there’s this scene where she kind of goes crazy after finding out he’s been lying to her. She grabs a sword and spasms all over the stage after she fake stabs herself. It’s kind of cool to watch especially if the dancer’s good, when you’re in the audience— I was trying to look up and see if I could catch part of it. And then it just.

Everything just _shifted_. I couldn’t hear the other violins. It was like everything was suddenly drowned out in some kind of fog, really far away. And the dancer— she— 

[LONG PAUSE]

ARCHIVIST

_[Quietly]_ You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to. I understand.

YANG

_[Deep, ragged breath]_ No. That’s not how things work. I’ll continue.

She stabbed herself. Like, _actually_ stabbed herself. There was blood everywhere, on the floor, on her chest, and I just— I just bolted out of my seat. Bad idea. I could hear someone laughing, but I couldn’t see anyone else— my deskie was gone, the whole strings section had disappeared, I couldn’t see the audience or anything else except my violin. But I could see Orsinov. She wasn’t looking at me, but she was still conducting in the dark. Mechanically, like her joints were too stiff to move. She was laughing.

And then I saw them— the Wilis. The ghosts who, in the story, force people to dance to their deaths. The actors weren’t supposed to come out until Act II after the break. They were all lined up on stage, staring at the dead dancer who had lights shining on her body. At least, I thought she was dead. The sword was vertical to her chest. How could she have been alive?

The Wilis turned towards the audience, and the orchestra— towards me. I wanted to ask them what the hell was going on but I realized none of them had faces, or skin. They weren’t people, not ghosts either, _mannequins_. I wanted to scream, believe me, I think I might have, but nothing came out. It was all that I could do to not just faint on the spot. I don’t know how to describe it, because they didn’t have any fucking faces! But they looked, they felt… hungry? And then I heard, whatchamacallit, that weird calliope music… 

Orsinov spoke. “Pleased to meet you, can I have your name?”

I ran. The performance hall wasn’t there anymore. It was just a long hallway and I was running through it not knowing where anything lead to. There were a million doors, but every time I paused in front of one I heard the creak of something awful and my gut told me to not stop running. I really… really thought I was going to die. 

There was red. So much red. The carpet was red and wet and the ceilings were also red. It was like, a never-ending movie theater, you know the kind? Like when you come out of a late-night showing and everything feels awful, disorienting. That was what it felt like running through the hallway. Like I would never be able to find an exit, not because it doesn’t exist, but because there’s an invisible crowd of moviegoers with you, crowding your space, but you can’t see them and they’re all standing in the exits and you can’t get out through them. Suffocating. If that makes sense.

It crept into my head then, looking back now, that maybe this was fine. _It would be fine if I died._ Maybe I was delirious from running, because I hadn’t run so much in such a long time, but it felt… cold. Cold and hot and cold again. Thoughts were detaching from my head, like they belonged to someone else… not people behind those doors. Someone far away. I slipped and _[Laughs shakily]_ I was still so concerned with my violin, my baby, I think I twisted my ankle. Even when I was going to die, when I felt… _something_ grab on my shoulder, I still… 

Do you know that feeling? When something’s chasing after you and all you could think is to give up? Of course you do, what am I saying. I’m sorry, I…

[SHORT PAUSE AS YANG COMPOSES HIMSELF]

_[Softly]_ And then I heard you calling my name.

ARCHIVIST

_[Hesitant tone]_ Brett…

YANG

I heard you. I don’t have perfect pitch, as you know, but I can discern voices just fine. It was coming through one of the doors up front. I don’t know how I got rid of the thing on my shoulder but I did, in the end. Banged up my violin a bit, but at that point I just— I wanted to see you. I heard you and I wanted to see you again, before I died. You called my name and you said _over here, over here_. I ran like a motherfucker.

I ran through the door and…  
  


ARCHIVIST

Into me.

YANG

Yes. I ran into you. I thought it was all just a bad dream when I saw you, mouth open and staring at me, but I didn’t look back. Eddy, I—

[TWO RAPID CLICKS]

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends. _[Very quietly, somewhat flustered]_ It was not a dream. Suppressed police records from that day show that reports of a mass hallucination event have been written up at length, attributed to a gas leak. Around three hundred people passed out and had to be hospitalized. No deaths were recorded, according to management at the opera house. There were also no records of Nikola Orsinov ever appearing at the event described above, but the replacement form seems to have never been filled out in the first place. As for the statement giver… 

YANG

Do you want to describe my scar?

ARCHIVIST

Statement giver claims to have a scar from the incident on his shoulder, as well as a scratch on his violin, both of which are visible to the recorder right now. 

YANG

Eddy… 

ARCHIVIST

I don’t think that’s necessary. Are you sure you are okay?

YANG

_[Frustrated tone]_ Yes, I told you! I’ve been going to therapy for this, you know that— this was before you developed your weird powers and— and all that. _This_. Please, Eddy. You don’t have to act like this around me, I can take it. I’m not going to break in half. Orsinov’s not here now, wherever the fuck she is. She can’t find me here, right?

ARCHIVIST

_[Sharp inhale]_ I’ll kill her if she comes after you.

YANG

Whoa, dude.

ARCHIVIST

Sorry, I… fuck.

YANG

No, that’s hot. I mean, uh. Hey, is that thing still recording?

ARCHIVIST

_[Slow exhale, half-fondly]_ If you say so. And no, not anymore.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Supplemental.

I didn’t think he would want to go on record about this at all. Yes, he left things out, but that’s probably for the best. I want… no. I know I’m not satisfied, but I’m not going to draw it out from him if he doesn’t want to tell me. It’s better that someone can resist. I want Brett to stay normal. I don’t want him to become entangled in this weird shit.

I hate this job. Whoever’s going to listen to this after I’m gone, you’ll probably hate this place too, if not at first then definitely after a few recordings. The institute sucks joy out from everything, even if in return… it doesn’t matter how much music I can play after I go home. I know too much now. I thought I would never know enough, before I stumbled upon this place. I still want to know, to learn, but… 

I can’t change the past. I can only try to change the future.

Brett’s been living with me since he gave the statement. Not _in_ here, because he’ll surely die of boredom, but I’m scared… I’m scared the Stranger will try to find him again. Or the Spiral, if that was what the hallway was. That’s strange, I don’t think they’ve worked together before… but it makes sense, I suppose, and I hate that it does. I don’t know how I can protect him. I don’t know how any of this _works_.

_[Exhale, wistful]_ He makes me happy. I still don’t know if I saved him or if I just made things worse back then. I thought it was a gas leak, too, so I just... I was just yelling at him. How could I have known what would’ve happened to us later on? But at least, at least…

I think about _Giselle_ a lot these days. Maybe he shouldn’t have, maybe I shouldn’t have… ah. Nevermind.

[A RUSTLE OF PAPER]

I don’t think any of this will be useful for the investigation, will it? Maybe it’ll implicate me. Maybe they will finally fire me for bringing my personal life into this. I don’t care. 

I need to go now. He’s waiting for me.

Supplement ends.

[CLICK]


End file.
